


Maker watch over you

by LutraGem



Series: Blood and Magic [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Grey Wardens, King Alistair, Kinloch Hold, Letters, M/M, Not exactly love letters, Past Relationship(s), Templars (Dragon Age), Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 19,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LutraGem/pseuds/LutraGem
Summary: Cullen Rutherford put aside his and Alistair's feelings for each other, and did what was best for Alistair: he made sure that he was recruited by Duncan. Alistair will likely never see him again, but he can write to him, even if the letters never make it.Direct sequel toRecruitment; runs parallel to early chapters ofBlood and Magic. Spoilers for the games and comics, with minor divergences to allow for my personal headcanons and version of the timeline.





	1. Definitely 5:26, 9:29 Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> An experimental little thing I had bouncing around in my head for a while. "Chapters" will be very short: just individual letters, and possibly conversations.

_Delivered on a folded scrap of parchment by a templar recruit:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Duncan told me what you did. ~~I don’t~~  
>  ~~How dar~~  
>  ~~How could~~  
>  I can’t believe you  knew. ~~I don’t know whether I want to punch you or ki~~  
>  Maker’s breath, but I know exactly what I want to do. I’ll be out of Denerim by the time you get this, so I can’t. Probably for the best.
> 
> I wish I had known you were saying goodbye.
> 
> Maker watch over you.  
>  A


	2. Probably 6:17, 9:29 Dragon

_Delivered to the Bournshire Monastery 7:3, 9:29 Dragon:_

> Cullen,
> 
> I’m officially a Grey Warden, now. I’m not allowed to tell you about the Rite (these Wardens are very secretive fellows), but I survived my first encounter with darkspawn. Am I allowed to say that? Probably not, now that the question has posed the idea that the two are linked. Oh well. I’ve survived.
> 
> I don’t expect to hear from you; we’re moving around a lot, and even if you get this, you won’t be able to get a letter to us. Duncan thinks that there’s a Blight coming in the next few years, but nobody believes him. Apart from us. I don’t know if these nightmares of darkspawn are normal for new recruits, but they’re ~~terrifying~~ a bit creepy, believe me.
> 
> Duncan’s a good man, and the other Wardens I’ve met have been kind to me. I’ve known them all of a fortnight, and I feel more at home here than I ever did at the monastery. None of them are you, though. 
> 
> Thank you, Cullen. I hope you find someone who’s as good a friend to you as you have been to me.
> 
> Maker watch over you.  
>  Alistair  
>  Justinian 17th (I think?), 9:29 Dragon


	3. Either 7:30 or 8:1, 9:29 Dragon

_Delivered to the Bournshire Monastery, and forwarded to Kinloch Hold by 9:13, 9:29 Dragon:_

> Cullen,
> 
> How are you? Have you passed your vigil yet? I know I won’t get to hear your response, even if I’m lucky enough to have this reach you, but I hope you have. I know how much becoming a templar always meant to you. Some days I can’t quite believe I’m waking up without you ~~n~~ knocking about, polishing your armour, talking about duty and honour and sacrifice, telling me to get a move on.
> 
> I think I understand you better, now. Duncan and the others, they’re like family already. Nobody here looks at me as though I don’t belong. In fact, most of us don’t belong, so we belong together. 
> 
> Still, I miss your nagging. Yes, I am looking after my armour, shield and sword. I see danger more often than I suspect you will in a Circle, or a village chantry, or wherever they put you, so I know that their upkeep is key to my survival. Mind you, maybe they have you off hunting blood mages; you were pretty good with a sword in your hand. _[A crudely-drawn face with spiky hair, a smirk and eyes like arrowheads has been added at the end of the paragraph.]_
> 
> Writing to you makes me feel a bit better, but homesick at the same time. ~~I didn’t really understand that you can be homesick for a person until now.~~
> 
> Make watch over you.  
>  Alistair  
>  Solace 30th (or maybe August 1st), 9:29 Dragon


	4. 6:??, 9:30 Dragon

_Delivered to Kinloch Hold 6:14, 9:30 Dragon:_

> Cullen,
> 
> If you get this, it’s because Duncan gave it to you, and you’ll probably have heard already but: there’s a Blight coming. No one will believe us, but it’s coming. Even if Duncan didn’t tell me, I’d tell you one was coming. Every night, my dreams are full of darkspawn and the archdemon. I hope that, wherever you are, you are safe.
> 
> The Grey Wardens of Ferelden are gathering their forces in hopes of putting an end to the Blight before it can get underway. If we can, we want the Orlesian Grey Wardens to join us, but as I’m sure you can imagine, the idea doesn’t hold much appeal to Fereldans. 
> 
> We’re headed to Ostagar, where King Cailan will join us. Duncan is making a detour to the Fereldan Circle of Magi, as he wants to recruit some mages to help in the fight. Cailan plans to make the same demands on the Circle as his father did in the war against Orlais. If he can, Duncan might even conscript a few for the Wardens. I wonder if he’ll conscript any more templars. It would be strange if a Blight brought us back together, wouldn’t it? I don’t know if I’d want you taken away from what you wanted, but I wouldn’t be unhappy to see you again, or to fight these monsters by your side.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Justinian 4th (maybe? It's a while since we've checked in with civilisation), 9:30 Dragon


	5. Actually 6:22, 9:30 Dragon (he checked)

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Duncan says he saw you in Kinloch Hold, and that he gave you my letter. Says you seemed happy.
> 
> I’m glad.
> 
> He brought a mage girl with him: Mira Surana, I think is her name. I’m guessing you knew of her, if you were in the Circle for any length of time. She’s very pretty, even if she looks very stern. She has a presence, you know? You probably do. That’s a woman who’s going to go far - further, now she’s out of the tower. Can’t say I wasn’t a little awed by what she can do with a stick. And she held her own with a Witch of the Wilds!
> 
> She made it through her first encounter with darkspawn, and the Rite. That’s important. Did you ever get that letter I sent about my Rite? ~~The Wardens~~ We’re secretive fellows. I don’t ever want to see you become a Warden, though. Too risky.
> 
> Stay safe, Cullen. We have a plan of attack for tonight. Hopefully by the time you get this we’ll be finishing up with cleaning darkspawn taint off the grass.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Justinian 22nd (I checked!), 9:30 Dragon


	6. Most likely 6:24, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
> 
> Duncan’s dead. King Cailan’s dead. They’re all dead. The only ones who aren’t are me and Mira, and she’d be dead if that Witch and her mother, an even Witchier Witch, hadn’t saved us from the top of the tower. Even now, I’m not sure if Mira will make it. She’s almost as pale as you.
> 
> It doesn’t feel real.
> 
> Fuck.
> 
> Loghain quit the field. We lit the beacon, and he abandoned Cailan and Duncan and all the men and women out there. He betrayed our king, my brother, his son in law. He betrayed the memory of our father. Why? All the stories tell of his devotion to my father. We could have won the battle with the greatest commander Ferelden’s seen in Ages!
> 
> He will pay for what he’s done.
> 
> I’m now the most senior Warden in Ferelden. I’ve been doing this for what, seventeen months? And it’s just me and a recruit fresh from the Rite, however tenacious she is.
> 
> We are absolutely fucked.
> 
> I pray we both survive this. I pray that, if we don’t, you don’t suffer.  
>  Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Justinian 24th? 25th? What does it even matter. It's just a matter of time until we're all dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten B&M, don't worry! But my arm injury is being _awful_ right now, and I've really struggled with the next sequence of chapters on that, so I'm waiting for my co-author to get back to me before I move on.
> 
> Updates on this will likely be erratic; these are short, but I still need to take some care with them.


	7. Could well be 6:28, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We’re off to raise an army and kill an archdemon. Wish me luck! No, seriously. We have to invoke the old treaties demanding aid, but who’ll believe us over Loghain? I hope Eamon will help. I know we parted on bad terms when he sent me to the monastery, but he won’t stand for what Loghain did to Cailan.
> 
> I miss you. I miss Duncan. I miss the other Wardens. When I first met her, I joked about Blights bringing people together, but it’s just ripping us apart. I don’t want to say anything to Mira, as it’s already hard enough for her and I should be stepping up (although you and I both know that bad things happen when I’m in charge). Also, the Witch (whose name is Morrigan) is with us now. Supposedly to help. Mostly she’s snarked and been thoroughly unpleasant. I’ve given as good as I’ve got, when I’ve had the energy. We’ve been recuperating for days now, but I’m still exhausted.
> 
> It’s a bit like how I felt in the days after I was recruited. At least you’re not dead. I hope.
> 
> Mira has named the mabari hound she saved after you (it found us on the path back to Ostagar, where we’ll find what’s left of the army, and the Imperial Highway). When I asked why, she said that it was earnest, and loyal, and strong. She also said that it hardly mattered, as she wasn't ever going to see you again. Or at least, not long enough to matter, even if we do see you when we come calling for mages to aid us.
> 
> I suppose we won't, will we.
> 
> ~~He’s just come up and snuggled up against me, whining. I think he knows how I’m feeling. If Morrigan asks why I’m crying, I’ll tell her that I’m Fereldan - what else do we do when a noble hound acknowledges us?~~
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Justinian 28th (4 days since the last one anyway), 9:30 Dragon


	8. One of the sisters said it was 6:30, 9:30 Dragon, and why would they lie to him? How dare you insinuate that a sister of the Chantry would be dishonest to mock a chronologically-challenged young man. How. Dare.

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We arrived at Lothering yesterday, with darkspawn attacking us at least once a day on the journey. The village is safe for now but bursting with refugees and people taking advantage of them. We dealt with the bandits, at least. We found out that Loghain has branded the Grey Wardens as traitors. There’s a bounty on any survivors’ heads. The Order is outlawed, so we can’t even get help from the Orlesian Wardens. Loghain has declared himself Regent. I bet he was just trying to get rid of Cailan so he could take the throne.
> 
> We met one of Eamon’s knights. He’s gravely ill - Eamon, not the knight - and half of Redcliffe’s soldiers have headed out into Ferelden in the hopes of finding the legendary Urn of Sacred Ashes (obviously, I don’t need to tell you what they’re thinking, and how bad it must be that they’re resorting to myths). It does mean that Redcliffe is sorely short on soldiers right now. We’re going to change our plan and head to Denerim first, where it’s most likely we’ll find someone who can help. Rumour is that the scholar, Genitivi (do you remember reading his books in the library? Just about the only author in there who wasn’t as dusty and stuffy as the room itself), might be on the Urn’s track. Fingers crossed this isn’t a wild goose chase, or that Eamon gets better on his own.
> 
> Mira insisted on running a few errands for people in the village, and somehow we’ve ended up with a Chantry sister with a Vision, and a Qunari murderer in our party. Mira’s taken charge, thank the Maker, even if it isn’t fair on her, ~~but I can’t~~
> 
> She’s something else, Cullen. I knew a few mages, a few elves, a few elven mages in the Wardens, but… Mira’s indescribable. She seems fairly grim and focused at first, even if she is pretty, but she’s not let anyone who asked for help go short, and sometimes I’ve caught her smiling with her eyes, and sometimes I’ve caught her on the edge of tears. I suppose she has plenty to be grim about - everything about this situation is grim - but there’s something reassuring about finding something good and ~~beautiful~~ unspoilt. ~~I picked a rose that reminded me of you~~ ~~her~~ ~~Maker’s breath I’m a mess~~ ~~Is this me finally moving on?~~
> 
> We stopped at Ostagar on our way to Lothering. I can’t describe how awful it was. Hundreds of rotting corpses, most of them partly-eaten by carrion or Maker knows what else - I pray that it wasn’t the darkspawn that feasted on them. There were enough of the filthy creatures still there. I wish we could have killed them all, but our last encounter there more than proved that we are not strong enough to face them yet.
> 
> We found King Cailan, pinned up on display in nothing but his smalls and the blood he died in. Morrigan did me the first thing resembling a kindness, after Mira asked her to arrange a distraction for the darkspawn long enough for us to pull down and burn his body. I wish we could have given him a proper funeral, but there wasn’t time. I wish we could have burned everyone who fell so their sacrifice was not disrespected through being eaten or reanimated. I wish we could have looked for Duncan. ~~I wish I wasn’t so useless~~
> 
> I haven’t told Mira about Cailan. I expect I’ll have to, but she’s so kind, and honest, and straightforward. Honestly, she’s nothing like the Chantry told us mages were. Nor, really, were the mages I knew before. She’s not smiley, but she likes me for me, I think. I don’t want her to change how she sees me. That’s why I never told you, either. I told you that I was bastard, and that Isolde thought that Eamon was my father, but I never told you that my father was King Maric.
> 
> This is turning into a diary, isn’t it? A very erratic, incoherent one, written on whatever parchment I can find. You’ll never see these, anyway, but it makes me feel better to at least pretend to talk to the one person from my past who is both alive and cared about me. And to not have to pretend to be okay too.
> 
> I wonder where we’d be right now if I hadn’t been recruited.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  6:30 (I asked one of the sisters), 9:30 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am conscious that this is not totally 'in-character' for Alistair, but that is intentional: he is a clever lad, but it's clear that some of his sarcasm and wit are designed to distract from things he's struggling with. Despite writing 'to Cullen', he's not actually got anyone who will read it, so he doesn't need to pretend so much.
> 
> Also, I know that the letters aren't as coherently structured as they might be, but that's because he's not exactly getting draft and redraft himself.


	9. 7:??, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> I could have written more in the last few weeks, but I ran out of paper, and mostly we’ve just been walking along the Imperial Highway, avoiding patrols, and tramping through wet, miserable forest full of werewolves, sylvans, regular spirits and regular wolves. And skeletons. And mad men. And revenants. And a few small dragons. And by small, I mean, horse-sized rather than hillock-sized. If horses or hillocks breathed fire.
> 
> It’s all rather complicated and I’ll spare you the details, but basically we heard that there was a Dalish clan in the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest, and since they’re one of the peoples who signed the Grey Warden treaties, Mira wanted to ask for their help. Only they couldn’t help, because they were being attacked by werewolves. Who, it turned out, were descendents of humans who the Keeper turned into werewolves hundreds of years ago. Admittedly it was because those humans had attacked his children, but the Keeper’s stubbornness was what kept everyone suffering when the werewolves decided it was about time for their own retribution.
> 
> I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to lose his children. But he let his anger poison innocents, and that could not stand.
> 
> Mira saw that. She managed to get him to lift the curse even though it would kill him. She’s kind, but she is ruthless, too. I’m glad she’s taken charge.
> 
> Oh, and she talked to a spirit that taught her the old elven arcane warrior ways, so now this tiny little elf woman is swinging around a sword and shield like it’s nothing, Cullen. Her mana’s supplementing her strength, or something. She doesn’t really know how to use a sword properly right now, but it’s clear from her skill with a staff that
> 
> ~~Andraste’s flaming sword, how am I going to get through training her to use a sword if even the thought~~
> 
> No.
> 
> Maker have mercy on me, and watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  I am pretty sure it’s still Solace, 9:30 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count Alistair down as scared _and_ horny.


	10. The assassin said it's 7:27, 9:30 Dragon, but who trusts an assassin? Idiots, that's who. And Mira, unfortunately.

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> You know what? I take it back. Mira shouldn’t be in charge. Or at least, she needs a break. She’s cracked. She has just agreed to have the assassin that Loghain sent to kill us join our party. He claims he owes Mira a blood debt for sparing his life, and that the Antivan Crows could well kill him for failing the first time even if he succeeded on a second try. He’s made an oath of loyalty to Mira, but what is the worth of a Crow’s word?
> 
> Still, she’s the one in charge. I can’t criticise her if I’m not willing to step up, and I’m not. I just pray we don’t all end up with our throats slit while this ‘Zevran’ fellow sails back to Antiva, laughing with Loghain’s money while the Blight swallows up Ferelden.
> 
> Also, he’s flirting. With everyone. Or trying to. Even while he was on the ground at Mira’s mercy, he offered to warm her bed. She told him that she only cared to have women join her, so he’s backed off from her, but.
> 
> I guess it’s best that I know now and don’t make a fool of myself later.
> 
> At least when Zevran tried to flirt with me I had someone to snap at.
> 
> I’m sorry, Cullen. Believe me, I still have very complicated feelings about what we were, and I feel as guilty as Loghain is, despite the fact that it’s really best for both of us if we move on.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  7:27, 9:30 (according to Zevran)


	11. If the assassin wasn't wrong about yesterday, it's 7:28, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We’re at Denerim now. Or rather, a few of us are: we decided that it would be best if the Qunari, the scantily-clad apostate and the tattooed Antivan Crow stayed away, and I made my excuses - I don’t want anyone thinking I’m my half-brother, even for an instant, as that’ll only draw attention. Leliana and Mira have gone in with Dog-Cullen, and Morrigan has slunk off somewhere - probably disguised as a cat, or a crow so she can steal some more shiny baubles. 
> 
> I can’t say that Leliana and Mira seemed unhappy about spending some time together. I think Leliana is looking forward to sharing the feminine joys of shopping with poor Mira. I don’t get it myself, but I’m glad that Mira’s making friends, getting to see things outside the Circle. She keeps catching me off guard with things that seem so mundane to you or me, but it’s really the first time she’s had to deal with them since she was taken from the alienage here. 
> 
> I wonder if she’ll go back.
> 
> It’s nice to see her and Leliana giggle together, regardless of whether it’s at my expense. It seems to be, often enough, but they’re not cruel.
> 
> Goldanna’s in there, somewhere. I wonder if one day I’ll get to meet her. It would be nice to have one sibling.
> 
> There’s not much I can do beyond train, and Sten’s an excellent sparring partner. I have no idea whether he hates me or if that’s just his face, but I’m learning a lot from fighting with him. I hope it makes me a better Grey Warden. It certainly gives me a chance to practice fighting someone bigger than me. Bigger than me than you were. I’ll be cross if you’ve gained another inch on me, you know.
> 
> Now, the question is - do I dare start a game of I Spy with Sten?
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  7:28, 9:30 Dragon


	12. No reason to suppose it isn't 8:6, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Genitivi wasn’t home, and might not be for a while. His assistant said to head for Lake Calenhad, so I guess we’re coming your way soon.
> 
> I hope you’re alright.
> 
> Mira and Leliana emerged from Denerim with a new tagalong – this one doesn’t seem to be a threat, at least. Says he knows of an old Grey Warden base in the Coastlands, and wants us to investigate – partly to find the truth, partly to restore his family’s honour, after Sophia Dryden’s coup. Well, he didn’t call it a coup, but Duncan gave us a run-down of our history to explain why there were so few of us in Ferelden. I don’t recall whether we were taught about it at the monastery, although that doesn’t mean we weren’t; I did tend to daydream in our history lessons (as you probably remember). Regardless, I’m not sure what Dryden honour there is to restore there, but then I suppose I would be a little biased. After all, she went after the royal family (bad) in her bid for the throne (not totally illegitimate, I’m told, but unwise given the Wardens’ apolitical stance) and was responsible for the Wardens being kicked out of Ferelden in the first place (even worse). I mean, if she hadn’t done that, we might have had our concerns about the Blight taken seriously. There might have been enough of us to make a difference at Ostagar. We might not have been the only Wardens left in the country after.
> 
> That’s a lot of mights.
> 
> Still, this Levi fellow seems well-meaning, and says that he petitioned Maric to give the Wardens a chance again. He knew Duncan too, apparently, and Duncan thought it was worth pursuing before the Blight got in the way of things. I don’t remember him mentioning it, but I wasn’t high up in the group. Also, Levi said that we would be welcome to reclaim Soldier’s Peak as a base of operations again, and I can’t say that the idea of having a fortress is unappealing. If there’s anything of value that the Wardens can call theirs, it’s worth taking; we’ve lost far too much as it is.
> 
> Levi has a copy of Genitivi’s _The History of Grey Wardens in Ferelden_. I think I read it back at the monastery, before we left for the tournament, but Mira wants me to read it in case it has anything on Soldier’s Peak. She’ll read it herself after, but says that since I know a bit more about the Wardens, I might note something that she doesn’t. Morrigan feigned surprise that I can read polysyllabic words, of course.
> 
> One tiny problem: word is that the fortress is haunted. Mira seemed to take that as a serious possibility; she said that the battle and death there could easily have weakened the Veil there enough for spirits to slip through, independently or in leftover corpses.
> 
> Regardless, Mira makes the final call, and so we are taking the North Road, with a detour. It’s the quickest way to Kinloch Hold anyway. We’ll send Sten ahead with Dog-Cullen and Zevran to find Genitivi, so we’re not wasting too much time.
> 
> I should see you again in a few weeks. The thought both gladdens and scares me a little.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  8:6, 9:30 Dragon


	13. Levi's sure they weren't in the tunnels for more than a day, so it must be 8:11, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Well. This has been an enlightening diversion. It’s always fun to find out that you have a despot in the family, and when said family is royalty, that has a slightly wider impact than someone being rather overbearing at the Wintersend family dinner. No, it turns out that Arland was the type of suspicious bastard who’d kill an entire noble line and take their lands over a minor, off-hand criticism of expenditure at said celebration. I know that the Wardens are supposed to be apolitical, but it’s hard to find it in my heart to criticise Sophia Dryden for rebelling, or the banns for turning to someone they thought could save them - though from her journals, it’s clear she was glad for the opportunity, and Avernus, her blood magic-wielding mage, was using blood magic to manipulate people and researching demons long before Arland’s forces broke through into the fortress, so there’s plenty I am happy to criticise. The Wardens were banished from Ferelden for what most of them believed was a just cause, however unwise - I hope the same fate doesn’t befall us again.
> 
> Arland was a devious, cruel git, and I am ashamed of him. I wish I could apologise to Levi somehow, but then I’d have to explain that I’m Maric’s son, and that’s not a conversation I’m ready to have.
> 
> Aside from all that, it was reassuring to see where Mira stands with demons and blood magic. It’s not that I’d doubted her, and she’s a nice person, but at the same time I was worried that she might be the kind of person who lets her principles take second place after her goals, and as this whole trip has shown us, that leads to terrible things happening. The moment she clocked that the demon inside Sophia Dryden’s corpse was trying to bargain with us, she attacked. And Avernus - Maker, Cullen, the things he did to the Wardens locked in the tower with him almost made me go back to agreeing that mages should be kept under lock and key - she kept him alive long enough to help seal the Veil, and then executed him herself (she's getting quite handy with a sword now, which is rather pleasing as I’ve been her teacher; you might even raise an eyebrow in sarcastic admiration. It’s not nice watching her execute someone, though. I’ve never done it. I feel like it would change a person. But she doesn’t ask me to do anything she wouldn’t do herself.). He didn’t protest when she told him that he was no better than the demons, but he showed no sign of remorse - just kept on talking about the things that blood magic could do, and how his “test subjects’” were worth less than the knowledge his experiments gained. Mira was right: there are some things you just don’t do. Coming from a Warden, he said, that criticism meant something.
> 
> Anyway: she said that gains made through deals with demons were no gains at all. I hadn’t realised how anxious the thought that she might turn to blood magic in the name of our cause was making me until she said that. Magic can do wondrous, marvellous things - but today has been a grim reminder of the awful things it can be put to.
> 
> I think I’m glad I’m only a bastard prince. I wouldn’t want to run a country. What if I became so blinded to my faults that I thought that subjugating my people was the right thing to do? Things are simpler in the Wardens, and at least our thing about not meddling means I really shouldn’t ever be put forward for the crown.
> 
> We’re done here, for now, although Levi is going to stay and maintain the place and use it as a base of operations for trade until we’ve got a few more Wardens to populate it. The demonic invasion has been thwarted, and the Warden base safely rescued; we do good work! Next stop should be Kinloch Hold. It will be good to see you again.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  8:11, 9:30 (perhaps)
> 
> P.S. All that reading paid off. I found Warden-Commander Gaspar Asturian’s stash in the fortress, after triggering the mechanism by reciting our oath in front of his portrait. There was a nice sword in there - dwarven-made, and gifted to him by Orzammar - and a few bits of armour. Morrigan has been studiously ignoring my smugness all evening.


	14. Leliana says it's 8:15, 9:30 Dragon, and she's pretty reliable

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We encountered one of Cailan’s honour guard today: Elric Maraigne. He was a close confidant of Cailan’s, and fought with us at Ostagar. We weren’t quick enough to save him, unfortunately.
> 
> We were passing through Bann Loren’s lands as quickly and discreetly as we could; Leliana said that Loren is well-known and little-loved for switching sides as he pleases, and that it is likely he has allied himself with Loghain, for now at least. (How, exactly, she knows this is beyond me, but I’ve known her long enough now to know that the reformed sister had a pretty interesting past to reform from, and that she hasn’t forgotten how to pick locks.) We saw a confrontation: this man was being shoved around by the bann’s guards. Before we could intervene, they stabbed him.
> 
> Turns out, he fled the field after Loghain betrayed us; deserted his men on Cailan’s orders to get the key to the royal arms chest to whatever remained of the Wardens. It contains ~~his~~ ~~my~~ our father’s sword, which Cailan swore to strike down the archdemon with, and documents relating to deals with Orlais and the empress. It would be disastrous if those fell into the wrong hands. The documents, that is. It wouldn’t be a disaster if someone got hold of Maric’s weaponry and armour, but it would be wrong, somehow. So, Elric fled, and Bann Loren locked him up for desertion.
> 
> Of course, Elric didn’t have the key on him, because that would make things too easy, wouldn’t it? Can’t have that. No, he stashed it back at Ostagar. Which actually means he just fled the field, since he wasn’t bringing us the key.
> 
> I can’t say that I want to go back, but if the opportunity arises, we should. If Cailan can’t have Maric’s armour, then would it be so wrong for me to have it? Or would it be too shameful for the bastard son to wear the royal armour? I don’t know. It’s an uncomfortable thought. Maric didn’t want me at court, or as a son, so do I have any right to claim any inheritance from him? And what would people think? Maker, they’d probably start trying to put me on the throne, and that’s a terrible idea. Andraste preserve me, I wish this wasn’t so complicated and muddly. I’ll put that thought aside for a while - it’s not as though we’ll be close to Ostagar any time soon.
> 
> We should be at the Calenhad Docks tomorrow, so with any luck I’ll see you soon, if you’re still alive and stationed there.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  8:15, 9:30 Dragon (or so Leliana calculates)


	15. 8:16-17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A non-letter chapter for Kinloch Hold. For full context of Alistair and Cullen before this fic, please read [_Recruitment_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070606). The briefly-mentioned Genevieve appears there, too.
> 
> Content warning for one scene of a very mildly sexual nature, and exactly what you expect from this quest.

“Cullen?” called Alistair.

A few of the templars milling nervously around the entrance hall glanced his way, but then shook their heads and went back to their hushed discussions. Alistair couldn’t see his— his— his friend anywhere. Mira and all the others were checking their armour, swapping out enchanted accessories and weapons to guard against magic and demonic entities – _everyone_ was coming on this rescue effort – but he had another priority. Maybe Cullen was still wearing his helmet? Maybe he was out somewhere taking a piss? Maybe he had been reassigned since Duncan and Mira had left the tower a few months ago?

“Cullen?” he called again.

“Alistair?”

He spun around at his name, though he scarcely recognised the voice or the woman it belonged to. “That’s me. Is Cullen here? Did he make it out with everyone else?” He was talking too fast. His chest was growing tight, almost too tight to breathe. His head felt as though it might detach from his torso.

“Alistair, it’s me. Genevieve. We trained together? I was there when the Warden took you.”

“Oh. Yes.” He did recognise her, vaguely. Frankly, he didn’t really care right now. “Is Cullen with you?”

She muttered something involving the word ‘obsessed’, but Alistair couldn’t bring himself to care – not when her next words knocked all the air out of his lungs. “He… was on the top floor when it started. Nobody above the third floor made it down in time, and only Greagoir got down from the third. I’m sorry, Alistair.”

Tears burned his eyes, hotter than Andraste’s pyre, and he shut them, bowing his head and turning away.

“Alistair?” This voice was familiar, and he opened his eyes to see a tiny dark blur that could only be Mira. She took his gauntleted hand and guided him to the side of the chamber while he blinked away the tears so he could see. “Is it more than the obvious?”

He nodded. “Cullen didn’t—” He stopped. He couldn’t say it.

A grimace passed over her face, and she squeezed his hand. “I know this is difficult, Alistair, but I need you to focus, otherwise I will leave you here. I’m about to face abominations inhabiting the flesh of my family, and I could really do with your templar abilities. But I won’t force you. Are you with me?”

Sucking in a shaky breath, Alistair nodded. “If they’re still alive, I want whoever is responsible for this to pay for what they’ve done.”

“As do I.” Her dark face was darkened further by grim determination. “Ready yourself. This will be a hard fight.”

~~~

“Cullen? Is that really you?” Alistair rubbed at his eyes. In front of him stood Cullen, glorious and golden and _alive_. He was wearing the under-armour of a full-fledged templar – no more novice uniform for him – and his arms were open.

Alistair flung himself into them. “They said you didn’t make it,” he babbled, peppering Cullen’s face with kisses, his hands stroking up and down Cullen’s back as he reassured himself that he was there, he was solid, he was real—

Cullen chuckled fondly, and the low sound went straight to Alistair’s belly – and beyond. It had been so long— “You didn’t think I’d let a few abominations and demons get the better of me, did you? How could I, when I knew you were coming to see m— _mmph,_ ” he groaned into Alistair’s mouth as he tilted Cullen’s chin down and crashed their lips together.

 _Maker,_ but it had been _so_ long, and time and distance and desperation made it more passionate than even that last night had been, and they hadn’t even got their clothes off yet. Mouths parted, tongues tangling, Alistair pressed himself as close as he could into Cullen, but with his armour on he couldn’t feel enough, couldn’t get close enough. He needed to be bone-deep with Cullen, har har, great pun, not intended— Alistair pulled back with a reluctant whine and started pulling at the straps of his armour.

“Hang on,” Cullen murmured, taking hold of his wrists to stop him. “This might not be the best place – there are children here, after all.”

That gave Alistair pause. “…Children?”

Cullen kissed him again. “I found your sister, Al. You’re an uncle. She says we can stay with her until we find a place for ourselves.”

Delight blazed in Alistair’s chest – he had a sister! One who accepted him! – before dimming, suspicion and unease banking the flames. “Hold up. How do _you_ know about my sister?”

Rolling his eyes, Cullen answered, “You wrote to me, remember?”

“But I— I didn’t send the letters.”

“Of course you did, Al.” Cullen reached up and cupped Alistair’s face, like he had back when they were together. Alistair leant into the touch, his stubble catching on Cullen’s callouses. “How else could I know? I’m so glad you felt you could open up to me about everything. I admit, I was a little hurt by your feelings for Mira at first, but that was when we thought we could never be together again. Now, things are different.”

Alistair turned his face into Cullen’s hand so that he could press a kiss into his palm, but said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Al,” said Cullen gently, pulling his hand away and taking Alistair’s. “Come on – you should meet your sister and your nieces and nephews, and then we can find somewhere _private_.”

“That sounds good,” agreed Alistair, allowing himself to be pulled along towards the house. Had there been a house there a moment ago? Of course there had been. Houses didn’t just appear or disappear. He squeezed Cullen’s hand, and Cullen squeezed back, rubbing his thumb over Alistair’s knuckles, and away went all the bad feelings. He was with the boy he had loved, with another chance at making it this time, and family awaited him.

“…Alistair!”

They turned: Mira stood there, expression pained. “Mira!” Alistair exclaimed, beaming and pulling Cullen around to face her. “It’s great to see you! Two of my favouritest people in the world. You know each other, don’t you?”

Mira eyed up Cullen dubiously. “I knew Cullen, yes.”

“Marvellous coincidence, isn’t it? We were just going inside to meet my sister, Goldanna, and her children.” He opened his arms wide, still holding onto Cullen’s hand. “We’re all going to be one, big, happy family, at long last!” Grinning, he pressed a kiss to Cullen’s cheek.

“You must know that he’s a demon, Alistair.”

Annoyance darkened his mood a little. “Well, you _would_ say that, since you’re a mage and he’s a templar,” he grumbled, scowling. “ _I_ know better, and I’ve never been happier. Isn’t that strange, huh? I thought that being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it didn’t. This does. Loved ones, a family… Growing up, I didn’t think I could have that. But now I do.” Cullen kissed him again, and joy burned a little brighter in Alistair’s heart.

“I’m so glad to have you back,” Cullen whispered. “I thought I lost you when you went to the Wardens. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Again, their lips met, and he could feel the curve of Cullen’s smile against his.

There was a quiet cough; when they parted, Alistair saw that Mira had averted her eyes, and that her cheeks had taken on that delightful reddish tint they did when she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry to interrupt, _Cullen,_ but I need to borrow Alistair a moment. We have business to attend to.”

Tightening his grip on Cullen’s hand, Alistair shook his head. Mira was a friend, but questing with her meant questing for pain and trouble. “I… don’t think I’ll be coming. I don’t want to spend my life fighting, only to end up dead in a pit along with — rotting darkspawn corpses.”

Cullen tugged at his hand. “So, is Mira coming for dinner, or—”

“Cut the crap,” snapped Mira. “Alistair – this isn’t Cullen. Not your Cullen, or the one I knew. He’s just a demon in disguise. This is the Fade. Don’t believe any of this.”

Alistair took a step in front of Cullen, indignant in the face of his friend but also starting to feel uncertain. “How can you say that about Cullen? He’s… he’s the soul of goodness!” He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his doubts. “You’re acting really strangely. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped forward to take his other free hand. He did not resist, although Cullen tried to tug him away. “I want the best for you, Alistair. And you can do better than this. Just take a moment to think about how you got here.”

“All right,” he griped, “if it makes you happy.” Mira was his friend, and a leader, and she had done well by him – he didn’t want to disappoint her. “I—” He stopped. How _had_ he got here? One moment he was— and then, Cullen, and then, a house and the promise of family— He swallowed. “It’s… a little fuzzy… That’s strange,” he whispered.

Pulling at his arm and voice as stern as when he was trying to keep Alistair from doing something foolish, Cullen said, “Al, come inside and meet your sister.”

“No… wait,” Alistair protested. “I remember a… tower. The Circle! It was under attack… There were demons.” His stomach was starting to bubble in panic. “And you were trapped in there! On the top floor, probably dead!” He jerked away from Cullen so that he now only held hands with Mira. Tears came to his eyes as he stared at Cullen. “This is a dream, isn’t it.” His voice cracked.

“I’m sorry,” Mira replied.

“No!” roared Cullen suddenly, or roared the thing pretending to be Cullen. Both of them stepped back. “He is ours, and I’d rather see him dead than free!”

Before Alistair could draw a weapon, lightning crashed down from the greenish sky – how had he not noticed that? – and the thing that had been Cullen screamed and vanished.

There was a long, heavy silence as Mira held his hand tightly and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Alistair shook his head again, shocked and hurt and ashamed and hollow. “I can’t believe it. How did I not see this earlier?” He was a fool to have been drawn in when Cullen was likely dead, but he _ached_ in longing for the boy he had fallen in love with.

Mira slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. “It’s what demons do. Find the things that mean the most to us and hope we are too blinded by joy to spot the cracks.”

“Yes, well,” he mumbled, falling back on humour and self-deprecation to lighten the situation, “don’t tell anyone how easily fooled I was, will you?”

“Your secrets are safe with me, Alistair.”

Suddenly Alistair felt light and nebulous. Mira and everything started to sparkle and then fade into whiteness. “Are we going now? Wait, where are you going?” His head tried to pop free, and he grabbed it to hold on. “What’s happening to me? Hey!”

He woke up.

He went and sat in a corner by himself with his head in his hands.

Dog-Cullen came and gave him dog-kisses, and Alistair buried his head in his fur until his hands stopped shaking, and then a bit longer after that, too.

When Mira came around and Leliana helped her up, Mira came and checked in on all of them: Morrigan, Zevran, Sten, Wynne, and finally Alistair.

“Are you alright to come on further with us?” she asked quietly.

Alistair nodded. “I need to know what happened. I need to make them pay.”

~~~

“Cullen!” gasped Alistair as he recognised the mop of curls and the voice of the praying man behind the glowing, pink wall of light.

The man scrambled up from where he knelt, eyes wild, chest heaving, legs barely keeping him upright. Sure enough, it was Cullen; they stared at each other through the barrier, Cullen’s expression mirroring the pain and disbelief that Alistair felt.

“This trick again?” demanded Cullen despairingly, gasping for breath. His eyes darted towards Mira, then widened further. “I know what you are — it won’t work. I will stay strong…” Down he went again to his knees in supplication to the Maker.

“He’s delirious,” said Leliana, gentle voice strained by horror. “He’s been tortured… and has probably been denied food and water. I can tell.”

Alistair took a step forward and drew his sword, preparing to strike the barrier. His best friend, his _lover_ was trapped, and Alistair would be damned to the Void if he was going to leave him. That he was still alive was a miracle, and despite the horror constricting his voice, he offered up a prayer of thanks for Cullen’s survival .

“Here,” Leliana was saying, joining him, “I have a skin of—”

“Don’t touch me!” cried Cullen. “Stay away!”

Mira put out her staff to stop them moving closer. “Careful – we don’t know what that barrier does, except that it’s enough to trap a templar,” she cautioned them before speaking to Cullen. “Don’t you recognise us, Cullen?”

“Only too well,” he groaned, bowing his head and gripping his hands like they were the only thing connecting him to sanity. “How far they must have delved into my thoughts…”

Wynne mused, “This cage… I’ve never seen anything like it. Rest easy, Ser Cullen – help is here.”

Cullen grunted. “Enough visions. If anything in you is human…” He paused, tongue overcome by noises of agony, before pleading, “Kill me now and stop this game.”

Alistair’s heart stopped. He dropped to his own knees, armour clanking, desperate to see Cullen’s face. “Cullen, Cullen, it’s me, it’s Al—”

“You broke the others,” he moaned, oblivious to or ignoring him, “but I will stay strong, for my sake… for theirs…” Cullen sniffled, and Alistair saw the light catch in a tear as it fell to the floor. Cullen began to rock back and forth. “Sifting through my thoughts… tempting me with the two things I wanted but could never — have… Using my shame against me… Using my ill-advised infatuations…” He paused to sob before crying out, “I am so _tired_ of these cruel jokes, these tricks, these…”

Despite his better judgement, Alistair reached out a hand to Cullen.

Mira slammed her staff on the ground, the noise ringing around the chamber, even above the hum of magic. Alistair froze. “Stop it, Cullen,” she ordered. “This is no trick. We’re here to help.”

“Silence!” he rebuked her, surging up and casting out a hand in defiance. “I’ll not listen to anything you say, now begone!” His eyes went wide again as… nothing happened. “Still here?” he gasped, voice breaking. “But that’s always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them!”

Steadily – far more steadily than Alistair could have managed right then as he stood up and met Cullen’s eyes again – Mira said, “I cannot account for what images of me or any— others, were shown to you, but we are real, and we came to help you.”

Alistair looked sharply up at Mira. Yes, even in this pink light he could see her embarrassment. Had… Had Cullen fancied _her?_ The thought hurt more than it had any right to, given his own crush, and he could not help but bark a laugh as he stood up again. What a pair they were, both of them trying to get over the other by falling for the same woman. Was _this_ why Mira had called the dog ‘Cullen’?

Cullen’s eyes snapped back to Mira when Alistair looked to him. “Don’t blame me for being cautious… The voices… th-the images… so real…” He shook himself and tried to stand a little straighter. “Why have you returned to the tower?” he demanded. “How did you survive?”

“I’ve defeated everything in my way, with my friends’ help,” Mira answered grimly. “Now it’s Uldred’s turn.”

“Good. Kill Uldred. Kill them _all_ for what they’ve done!”

Alistair choked. “Cullen—”

He glared at Alistair. “They caged us like _animals_ , looked for ways to break us.” Face screwing up in misery, he said, “I’m the only one left. They turned some into monsters. And… there was nothing I could do.”

“Mira, _please,_ ” Alistair begged, “we need to get him out of there—”

“I don’t know how!” she cut him off, sounding a little choked up herself. “You can—You can try to Cleanse the area,” she said, and Alistair did it without a moment’s pause; but as the three mages winced, the barrier did not even flicker. Alistair swore, and Mira spat, “I’m guessing we need to stop whoever set it up, be it demon or mage. Uldred will _pay_ for this.”

Scoffing, Cullen said, “And to think I once thought we were too hard on you.”

Somewhere from the back of the group, Morrigan tutted. Zevran muttered something about this seeming the inevitable conclusion of being too hard on the mages.

Mira tensed up. “We’re not all evil, Cullen.”

“Only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons.”

“And this is why Mother kept me clear of the Chantry and templars,” sneered Morrigan. “They are truly pathetic.”

Wynne stepped forward before anyone could argue back. “This is a discussion for another time! Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred – where are they?”

Alistair barely followed the conversation as Cullen, _his Cullen,_ Cullen who had wanted to protect the common folk and mages alike, advocated that everyone was killed in case they were secretly blood mages. Mira refused, of course she refused, but it was heart-breaking to see Cullen’s innocence twisted into hatred.

As the others prepared to go into the Harrowing Chamber, Cullen went back down on his knees, and Alistair joined him from the other side. “Cullen?”

“… _What,_ ” he growled.

“We’re going to get you out of here, I promise. Hold on a few minutes longer for me, alright?”

“…I hope she knows what she’s doing.”

“She does. And you know it, too. Or at least, the boy I—” He hesitated, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby; Sten and Zevran stood too close for privacy. _Damn._ “The boy I knew, the boy who was my best friend, would have known it.”

Cullen gave no answer.

Alistair sighed heavily and stood up. “Just a few minutes longer, Cullen.”

He was walking away when Cullen croaked, “Al.”

He turned. “Yes, Cullen?”

“…Maker watch over you.”

Alistair’s tongue got stuck for a moment, and he closed his eyes. “…Maker watch over us both.”


	16. 8:19, 9:30 Dragon

_Left on Cullen’s bedside table, and read 8:20, 9:30 Dragon:_

> Cullen,
> 
> I wish I could stay long enough to see you wake again properly - not those moments where you’ve woken from your nightmares long enough to cling to me and cry - but Mira says we must leave for Redcliffe this morning, and she cannot go without me, or so she says. She holds no fear of elves or dwarves, and the Circle was her home, but she says she cannot approach a human lord on her own. A Grey Warden she may be, but an elf and a mage is what the people will see first, and she dares not risk our cause for human prejudice. It’s obvious that she wants to escape here, though. I know our quest demands that we get Arl Eamon back on his feet as soon as possible, but it’s easy to tell that she’s unsettled by the tower now. It was her home, but now it is broken, and the Veil is weak. There is no ritual here to be reversed that can heal it it - not that you’ll understand what I mean by that, as you haven’t seen the other letters I’ve written to you almost as a diary, but I have no other paper and I’m not starting again, so. Well done me.
> 
> I wish I could stay long enough to help you heal. I know you have been hurt in mind, soul and body by magic; Wynne examined you once I had carried your unconscious body downstairs, and said that despite you only being trapped for twelve hours or so since the coup began, demonic magic had dehydrated you and starved you, and she is reasonably sure that your perception of time was warped to prolong your suffering. It should never have been done to you, and I wish you hadn’t suffered. But you know better than to tar all mages with the same brush. Don’t go back on the ideals that drove you to be the best templar you could be. I always admired that about you.
> 
> I wish I could have stayed long enough to talk to you about everything that’s happened. I’ve missed you, my friend, and there’s so much that I can’t say in a letter.
> 
> I have to go. I’m sorry.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  8:19, 9:30 Dragon


	17. Pretty sure it's 8:25, 9:30 Dragon, but the last few days have been a bit of a blur

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We’re arriving at Redcliffe tomorrow. Or this morning - it’s late, and I can’t sleep. Zevran’s on watch in a tree somewhere. Anyway, I’m more worried than I have any good reason to be; after all, this was my home. But I was sent away. I’m not wanted here. Is this how Mira felt going back? I pray that there’s nothing worse going on there than Arl Eamon’s illness.
> 
> Mira snapped earlier this evening. In the two months I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her cry or witnessed her losing her temper, although she’s lost her patience once or twice. But Morrigan went too far, mocking the Chantry and the Circle and the Templar Order. I admit, I’ve fallen for the bait once or twice, but when Morrigan directly mocked you, Cullen, I didn’t have a chance to answer before Mira was up on her feet, yelling at her for being so superior and not having a grain of sympathy in her heart for anyone who had just seen their friends killed in front of them. Then she stormed off.
> 
> I gave Leliana the chance to go after her - I’m pretty sure that they are skirting around the start of a romantic relationship - but Leliana said that she thought that I was the one she needed to talk with. So I went to talk with her.
> 
> I let her talk first. She hasn’t really spoken about her life before all this, except for her naming the dog after you, but clearly the floodgates opened with the earlier tears. She told me that she grew up in the Denerim alienage before she electrocuted a human woman who was harassing her mother, and then she came to the Circle. She was a good student after that, except when her fellows picked on the elven mages. You arrived a year ago, and your crush on her was painfully obvious, if terrifying in principle despite your sweetness; not everyone showed your restraint when a mage caught their eye, and that thought sickens me, to know that our brethren abuse the position of authority that the Chantry has given them. Still, you were kinder than most, and maintained your discipline, and she came to view you somewhat fondly, for a templar. I’m glad about that. I hope that what’s happened doesn’t change you too much.
> 
> Mira’s entry to the Wardens was not a happy one. Just past her Harrowing - you oversaw it, she says - and her best friend tricks her and turns out to be a blood mage. She would have gone down with him if Duncan hadn’t whipped out the Right of Conscription.
> 
> She went quiet after that, but it didn’t seem right to leave it there. Besides, Leliana had sent me, probably because of our overlapping experiences. I told her how I was conscripted at the tournament, and that just led into everything else. Us. Eamon and Isolde and why I’d been sent to the monastery and why you chose my happiness over our relationship. Maric and Cailan and Goldanna. She already knew some of it from what she saw in the Fade. I told her why I hadn’t told her, although I wasn’t entirely honest about how me being Maric’s bastard doesn’t really bother me. I used to be at a disgruntled peace about it, but with everything’s that’s happened at Ostagar and beyond it’s niggled at me, like a tongue at a wobbly tooth, or a stubborn bit of food, or an ulcer.
> 
> She didn’t judge. She just listened, and rested her head against my shoulder. She asked if I was heir to the throne, and whether Loghain knew. I told her that I really hoped not, and that he probably did, but that I was very clearly a commoner and a Grey Warden and that I didn’t want any claim to the throne. And then I made a joke about me being a nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Wardens, and she smacked me upside the head and hugged me and told me how stupid that was to say, and told me not to even dare say anything about me being stupid. I may have cried. A little bit. You said the same things, in a totally different way. 
> 
> Nope, absolutely not crying again now.
> 
> And then we talked, and I don’t know what it was that we talked about but I felt… empty at the end, but in a good way. Cleansed. Lighter than I have for a long time, despite the fact that I’ve still got you and a Blight to worry about. She did very gently tell me that she was coming to view me as a very tall, gingery little brother (she’ll be 23 by the end of the year, so she’s three years older than me), which was her way of letting me down politely in case I hadn’t already got the message. I can live with that, and honestly, I think I could get to like having a tiny, awesome big sister.
> 
> She’s gone to sleep now, curled up with Dog-Cullen near the fire while I sit and write. I’m going to regret staying up come the morning, but I just can’t sleep. I should try, though.
> 
> I hope you’re doing better, now.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  8:25, 9:30 Dragon (must be after midnight)


	18. Of course it's a Tuesday (8:26, 9:30 Dragon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been really nice doing daily updates, but I'm coming to the end of my holiday time and it's unlikely I'll be able to keep up this momentum as other projects/obligations take priority. I do intend to keep on working on it! The updates will just be more sporadic.

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> I’ve joked about Tuesdays before, but I think this is the first time I’ve said, “It must be a Tuesday,” and someone’s answered, “It is, actually.”
> 
> Where do I start, Cullen. I should never have written about hoping that my home wasn’t in trouble, because what do I come back to find? A decimated population, the castle closed off, and undead attacking the village every night. Teagan’s alive, at least, and around to help us. Between us we managed to get enough to people to fight or supply us, and we survived the night (thoroughly regretting the previous late-night chat), and then Teagan went with Isolde into the castle. We crept in through a secret passage, and found Mira’s blood mage friend in the dungeons. Turns out that when he fled the Circle, he was picked up by one of Loghain’s men, who promised him safety in exchange for poisoning Eamon.
> 
> Mira really knows how to pick her friends.
> 
> Eamon’s son, Connor, is a mage. Jowan arrived at just the right time to offer to teach him and keep him from the Circle, and poisoned Eamon around the time of the battle at Ostagar. Then Connor, well-intentioned child that he was, decided to do a deal with a demon in order to save his father. So now Connor is possessed and was raising the dead, Eamon is stable but comatose, and the only way to stop this is to have a mage go into the Fade and free him, as Mira did for us, or to kill Connor. Obviously, that wasn’t an option, and nor was using blood magic to go into the Fade, so we’re coming back to you to borrow some mages and lyrium.
> 
> I can’t get my head around what’s happened to my home. It hurts. I can’t put it into words. I left this place in anger (and Maker, Mira found my mother’s amulet that I smashed before I left, and that’s another mess of emotions that Eamon would put it back in the hopes of reconciling with me), but it’s still home.
> 
> I can see your point. You or I could never have called upon a demon and wound up ruining a village. But I hardly see that frightening mages and driving them into a corner is going to make them any more stable and less resentful. He’s a child, Cullen, scared and just trying to help. 
> 
> I don’t know that that I have an answer. But killing them all can’t be it.
> 
> I’ll see you soon. I hope you’re well enough to see me.  
>  Alistair  
>  Tuesday 26th August, 9:30 Dragon


	19. 9:3, 9:30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fucking Tuesday. Non-letter chapter as Alistair and Cullen finally talk face to face.
> 
> Minor warnings for discussion of what happened inside the Circle Tower, including mention of child murder.

“Cullen!” called Alistair as he spotted his friend/lover/most-important-person guarding the door across the entrance hall and grinned.

Cullen visibly started from a daydream – _Or daymare,_ realised Alistair sourly – and clattered back a step before coming to his senses and looking around sharply. His eyes widened when they landed on Alistair, but after a moment Cullen managed a weak smile, more a shift in his eyes than a twitch of his lips.

It was the loveliest thing Alistair had seen in weeks.

“Hold on a moment, Alistair,” murmured Mira, heading forward to ask the nearby knight-lieutenant where she could find Knight-Commander Greagoir and Irving, the First Enchanter.

They were directed further in, to the apprentices’ living quarters, where the remaining mages and templars were apparently working to cleanse the space of the bulbous, fleshy growths and the scent of blood, so that some comfort could be found in the Circle.

As they passed through the door that had previously jailed mage, templar and demon alike, Alistair hung back.

Cullen cleared his throat and muttered, “I can’t— I can’t talk now, but I could— I could come to find you after the guard changes, if you’re still here?”

There was something hopeful in his voice, despite the obvious brokenness, and that made Alistair smile gently. “I’d like that. We weren’t expecting to leave before dawn.” Alistair felt his cheeks grow warm at realisation that his words could sound like an invitation, but Cullen just nodded.

“I’ll find you.”

“Alistair!” called Zevran from the rear of the group, and Alistair looked up to see the assassin beckoning.

He sighed and made a mock-salute. “I’ll see you later.”

~~~

“Cullen, isn’t it?” asked Leliana, standing at the door to the room they had been assigned in the basement (currently, the risk of giant spiders was preferable to the horrors left in the main tower). Dog-Cullen looked up at his name; Alistair rose so fast from where he polished his armour that he bumped his head on the shelf above him. He groaned.

“…Yes, miss. Um. Ser. Ah. Is Alistair there? The knight-commander said that I might show him the grounds.”

Leliana glanced back to Alistair and a knowing smile touched her lips momentarily as he hurried over. “Yes, he is just coming. How are you, now? You look better fed.”

“I… am, thank you.” Cullen’s voice sounded strained.

“I am glad,” she replied fervently. “I have been praying for you, and for all those hurt or lost here.”

Before Cullen had a chance to reply, Alistair slid between her and the door, and took Cullen by the shoulder. “Thank you, Leliana, I can take it from here, thank you—”

There was a laugh behind them, but then the door shut. Alistair stopped, and took a moment to take in the sight. Cullen stopped and stared back.

Cullen looked pretty bad. Not as bad as he had in the magic cage, but his face was haggard and there were dark circles around his eyes, as though he had not been sleeping well. He was out of his armour, in just the under layers of a full-fledged templar – and Maker, that sense of _deja vu_ made Alistair want to kiss him there and then, no matter that Mira and Wynne might walk back down the corridor are any moment – but he still had his sword and shield strapped to him. _Just in case it all goes to shit again,_ Alistair realised, a lump coming to his throat. He had shaved since Alistair had seen him that afternoon, though, and he had brushed out his helmet-hair.

He had also grown another inch on Alistair, the git.

Cullen swallowed and managed a smile. “You’re looking well. Considering that you have a Blight on your hands, and you’ve been declared a traitor to the crown.”

“Oh, you heard about that?” Alistair laughed and scratched nervously at his rough cheek. Should he have shaved, too? “Well, it’s not all been a walk in the rose garden, I can tell you that, but it’s not been all bad – I mean, set aside the allegations of treason, the bounties on our heads, the real traitor seizing power, the tainting and destruction of land and life, opportunistic bastards hurting people, darkspawn monsters encroaching further and further north, nightmares of the archdemon aaaand I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“Just a bit,” Cullen answered, the smile growing a little wider and more sincere. “Come on. Nobody will be in the prayer garden, and we might even get lucky and not get rained on. It is only the start of Kingsway, after all.”

Alistair made a gracious gesture for Cullen to lead the way. “That’s a bit optimistic, isn’t it? Did the tower get teleported to Antiva while we were down here?” Cullen jabbed his elbow back into Alistair’s sternum, hard enough to drive a bark of laughter from his lungs but not hard enough to hurt. “Be honest: you’ve missed me and my razor-sharp wit.”

It took Cullen a moment to respond to that, and when he finally turned around his face was pulled into such a lost, anguished grimace that Alistair wished he hadn’t said anything. “Of _course_ I missed you, Al,” he chastised him, voice cracking. “I— Letting you go—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alistair interrupted, taking and squeezing Cullen’s hand for just a moment. He only needed that moment to feel the tremor in the fingers. He was screwing this up. The possibility of them ever being together again had been so impossible, and now that they were here it felt like it should be the way it had been, but of course it couldn’t be. They had both seen and done too much to be the same. “I didn’t mean— Andraste’s lacy smallclothes, Cullen, I’m _sorry_. I missed you, too. So much.”

Nodding, Cullen said, “I got your letters, you know.”

“You _did?_ ” squeaked Alistair. So he knew about—? “I mean,” he said, lowering his voice, “You did? But I haven’t sent them!”

Cullen blinked. “Well, I got the letters you sent. Are there letters you didn’t send?”

“Ahhh, well, uhhhh… Maybe?” Covering his eyes with one hand, he mumbled, “I sort of… wrote to you about all the stuff that was happening. To vent. Except I knew they were never going to be read. So it was more like I was writing a diary. And instead of ‘Dear Diary’ it was ‘Dear Cullen’, except ‘dear’ sounded a bit too, ahh, intimate, for letters that might have been read by your – our – superiors, and so I didn’t write ‘dear’ in the letters I _did_ send to you so by the time I was writing things I knew wouldn’t reach you I was out of the habit and—” He stopped to draw breath. Cullen was smirking. Alistair decided to entirely drop himself in it, just to wipe that smirk away. “Things were really shit, alright, and writing to someone I cared about made me feel a bit better, a bit more connected to reality, even if I was just pretending.”

Yes, that smirk had gone. They were both silent for a moment, and then Cullen turned away. “Come on.”

The weather seemed have settled halfway between Cullen’s optimism and Alistair’s realism: it wasn’t quite raining but it wasn’t just fog; it was mizzling, as Alistair liked to think of it. Regardless, as they left the tower and skirted its base, passing goat pens and some chicken coops, Cullen had predicted one thing right: they were totally alone, so long as you discounted the softly-bleating goats and beady-eyed hens who watched them warily long enough to ascertain that they were neither food nor a threat before going back to scratching in the dirt for worms. 

Once past those, Cullen took Alistair’s hand and guided him into a little walled garden, in the centre of which stood a small shelter that covered two benches and a three-foot tall statue of Andraste on a little dais. Her features had been worn down by years of Fereldan weather, but her arms were open in welcome, and her shield and sword rested at her feet, along with some burnt-out candles. The plaque on the dais read:

**BLESSED ARE THEY WHO STAND BEFORE**  
**THE CORRUPT AND THE WICKED AND DO NOT FALTER.**  
**BLESSED ARE THE PEACEKEEPERS, THE CHAMPIONS OF THE JUST.**  
**BLESSED ARE THE RIGHTEOUS, THE LIGHTS IN THE SHADOW.**  
**IN THEIR BLOOD THE MAKER'S WILL IS WRITTEN.**  
BENEDICTIONS 4:10-11

The sight made something twinge in Alistair’s stomach. This prayer garden was clearly only for the templars. 

Cullen tugged insistently on Alistair’s hand, and Alistair felt his cheeks heat a little as he was drawn to the bench. It would be so easy to just kiss him, to guide his back down onto the cold stone and keep him warm with scalding hands, but— No. This wasn’t right. Not now. Not so soon after Cullen’s torment. Not after so long since they’d parted. And so he just held Cullen’s hand quietly as they sat quietly in front of Andraste. After a few moments, he started to rub his thumb over Cullen’s knuckles; a small gesture, but one that they had previously found comforting.

Snorting, Cullen muttered, “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“The feeling is mutual,” replied Alistair. “As in, I’m glad we’re both alive. Not just that I’m glad I’m alive. Even if I’m not exactly thrilled to be living through… all this.”

“I…” Cullen pulled his hand back into himself, and clenched his jaw so hard that Alistair heard the click of his teeth.

Alistair nodded. “I’m not glad that you’re suffering this. But I’m glad you survived it.”

Cullen nodded, his chin pulling down to his sternum. His ringlets were starting to go lank and limp in the damp air. He exuded misery, the aura rolling off him like the mists off the lake.

The pair of them sat there for a few minutes, neither touching, and Alistair certainly unsure of what to do. Start babbling? Hug him? Kiss away the tension and the deep downward turn of Cullen’s mouth? As they waited, the weather started to mirror the mood, and the mizzle became light raindrops pattering on the shelter roof and the rest of the garden.

It was Cullen who broke the relative silence. “I read your letter. Saw your marks.” His eyes remained on his knees.

Alistair nodded dumbly. It had been foolish, risky, and ill-timed, but he did still love Cullen. In some way. It was complicated. And it had seemed important that Cullen knew that after his suffering.

“I thought— I thought that you might hate me when you found out what I did.”

“I didn’t— I would never—!” gasped Alistair. “I mean, yes, it _hurt_ , but— I understood. I’m… I’m grateful that you cared enough to let me go. And,” he added, half-smiling and letting a hopeful note enter his voice, “it seems that we’ve been brought back together again.”

“So it seems.” The words were flat.

Alistair scratched his cheek again before speaking. “I… I can’t stay. Not now. There’s still a Blight to deal with. But… I can try to come back. When we’re done. If you want.”

Cullen scoffed. “If you live that long.”

That stung. But Alistair only got his mouth half-open before he snapped it shut. They’d been lucky so far, but it was highly probable that he’d be dead by the time the archdemon fell. If it fell.

 _It has to fall,_ he reminded himself. _It_ will _fall. Even if I give my life for it. That would be a fairly noble end, and no one could say… I don’t know._

A hand lightly touched his knee, startling him from the grim spiral his thoughts were taking.

“Forgive me,” Cullen murmured. “I— I want—” His voice cracked, and so did Alistair’s heart. “I just— I wanted. I wanted to be with you. So much, and then, those, those—” He cut off, sucking in air through his nose. His voice was growing thick with tears, thin with anger and despair. “They— They took that, and used it against me. And I can’t— I can’t get it out of my _head,_ ” he moaned, hands going to his face, heels of his palms grinding into his eye sockets. He started to rock back and forth. “I tried to put you from my mind, even allowed myself to have feelings for— f-for _her_ , but then the mages turned, and she tormented me, and when she got bored she— she dug even deeper and started tempting, tormenting me with you, and—”

“Cullen,” Alistair interrupted sharply, hands and arms itching with the need to do _something_. “Mira— Mira didn’t do any of that. Demons did.”

“Demons brought here by her kind!” Shooting up from the bench, Cullen began to pace, hands flailing. “Mages are foul and corrupt. I was a fool for feeling sympathy for her, for any of them! Give them an inch and they take a yard, and use it to make a summoning circle to tear open the Veil! The Chantry is right to lock them away. Even the quiet ones, even the apprentices called on blood magic and demons to aid them! Mira was wrong to let any of them live after what happened – what have they learnt, except that if they are careful enough they can get away with murder?!”

Alistair’s stomach churned as Cullen spoke. What had happened to the boy who had wanted to protect mages and the people? _Well, that one’s obvious, but—_ “They’re not all like that,” he blurted out. “Mira’s good. Principled. In control. She’s executed blood mages. Wynne is nice. Morrigan is—” He paused and grimaced. His hands and voice were shaking with anger. “Okay, let’s forget about Morrigan. But they’re not all evil, is my point! Locking them up, threatening them if they step out of line, abusing them when they don’t – why wouldn’t they protest that?” Alistair glared up at Cullen, who had gone very white. “And who can blame children for panicking when the soldiers who are _supposed_ to protect them turn on them? Don’t pretend, Cullen – even if you didn’t strike them down, I saw _plenty_ of mages who had been killed by weapons, not magic. Including children.”

Horror and realisation dawned on Cullen’s face as the rain began to come down harder on the roof. “They’ve… They’ve got you. They must have. You _loved_ me, there’s no way you’d side with them after seeing what they did to me unless—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Is it Mira? She was friends with a blood mage, you know. Maker, she should have been sent to the Jainen Circle like Greagoir said, if only Duncan hadn’t invoked the Right of Conscription—”

“She’s not a blood mage, Cullen!” retorted Alistair, but Cullen was no longer listening.

“Fuck Duncan. I _liked_ him, but he took a suspected blood mage, and now look what’s happened!”

That was a step too far. Leaping to his feet, Alistair snarled, “Don’t you _dare_ talk about Duncan like that!” as he settled himself in Cullen’s path. “Or Mira!”

Cullen’s eyes were wild and fearful as they stared at each other in front of the statue. His hands had gone to his scabbard and sword hilt. “Is it the old one, Wynne, then? Or this— This Morrigan? She looked dangerous. Didn’t she say something about being kept from the Chantry? An apostate!”

“I’m not under the influence of blood magic, Cullen!”

“How would you know?” Cullen began to back away, drawing his sword. Alistair’s blood ran colder than ice: he was unarmed, unarmoured. But Cullen kept moving back, sword raised in warning. Tears dripped down his face, before vanishing amongst the rain splashing down. “I don’t want to hurt you, Al, but I can’t— I can’t— I don’t want to see you. Not until you understand. Not until your mind is your own.”

“Cullen!” Alistair cried, but Cullen only shook his head and fled.

Alistair’s knees gave way beneath him and slammed into the stonework. But that pain was nothing compared to the aching of his heart and the sickness in his stomach. He curled over and sobbed. He cried until he had no more tears left, and vented and prayed until he had no more words left, and knelt before Andraste until he had no more feeling in his body.

And then something whined behind him, and a cold, wet nose nudged at his face, followed by a rough, slobbery tongue. A heavy cloak fell around his shoulders, and Mira sat down next to him, pulling him into a one-armed hug; her other hand lit up with a glowing gold orb of warmth and light. Dog-Cullen curled up around his other side.

“I’m sorry,” Mira said, almost too quiet to be heard above the heavy rainfall.

Alistair didn’t reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! Things got hectic, I was focusing on finishing an arc in _Blood and Magic_ , and things got hectic again. I haven't forgotten this!
> 
> Cullen's "foul and corrupt" is a reference to:  
>  _Foul and corrupt are you_  
>  _Who have taken My gift_  
>  _And turned it against My children.  
>  Transfigurations 18:10_


	20. Apparently 9:11, 9:30 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for references to the Broken Circle and Redcliffe quests.

_Delivered to Kinloch Hold 9:20, 9:30 Dragon; forwarded to the Greenfell chantry 10:5, 9:30 Dragon:_

> Cullen,
> 
> I know you don’t want to hear from me. I know you don’t want to hear what I have to say. I can imagine what you’ll have to say to it, but I have to write to ask you to consider that things aren’t as simple as “mages are evil” while I still have the words to put to paper. It’s not easy to articulate, not after all that time at templar school, and I've never been good with words, but I know that I’m grasping at something right and true.
> 
> Right now, I’m sitting in the throne-room of Redcliffe castle, watching an exorcism, if that's the word for it. You’ve probably heard that Connor Guerrin - the arl’s son - is a mage, and in desperation called on a demon to save Eamon, who had been poisoned by Connor’s teacher, Jowan. From what you said, you know of Jowan. Connor has done awful things while possessed. Mira is going into the Fade to destroy the demon possessing him, with the aid of the lyrium and mages from the Circle.
> 
> I don’t deny that mages can do terrible things. Or that they have access to powers that can destroy them and others. But that passage you half-quoted at me doesn’t say that they’re all evil: “Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children.” Not, “Foul and corrupt are they who have His gift.”
> 
> Jowan’s actions are unforgivable, using blood magic and then poisoning Eamon for Loghain. I don’t know what will happen to him. But Connor? I know this wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t treat mages like they were diseased, and lock them up. Connor’s magic emerged, and his mother was frightened to send him to the Circle. She decided to find a tutor so that Connor could keep his magic secret and under control but because the Chantry and templars lock up all the mages, all that are left are apostates and runaways who aren’t as safe. As I understand it, Jowan didn’t even complete his Harrowing.
> 
> I hate what happened. This village was my home, even if I was never wanted here by anything more intelligent than the dogs. But I can’t bring myself to hate Connor. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him, but I can’t hate him for being scared and for taking a chance that he didn’t understand.
> 
> I hate what happened to you. I hate Uldred for what he did to you, the templars, and the other mages. But I can’t help but think that it could have been avoided if the mages and templars worked together, rather than the templars having the freedom to abuse under the guise of protection.
> 
> I don’t know what the answer is. But it’s not all on Uldred, and it’s not on all the mages.
> 
> Think on it, please. I know you hurt right now, but I hope you come out of this with some insight on how to stop it from happening again.
> 
> Maker watch over us all.  
>  Alistair  
>  Kingsway 11th, 9:30 Dragon


	21. Tuesday 9:17, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Fuck. I didn’t want to do this, to do the diary thing to you, but here we are. Things are awful, and there’s no one here I can confide in. Well, no one except Mira, but she’s not been the same since Kinloch. She doesn’t need any more baggage to weigh her down. So it’s smiles and bad jokes all round from me, and a lot of screaming on the inside. 
> 
> We’re through, aren’t we? We’re never coming back from this. We’re both too different, too damaged. It’s time that I accepted that and moved on.
> 
> I hope that you find someone who makes you happy.
> 
> Right. Stop moping, start venting.
> 
> We sent half the group back to Denerim to follow up with Weylon, given that his leads on Genitivi were useless. It does mean that I don’t have to put up with Morrigan, Sten or Zevran. I miss Dog-Cullen. Or just Dog, as we’re calling him now. Neither of us knew how painful that name would end up being.
> 
> The rest of came back to Ostagar, to follow up that lead from Elric. That was a success, at least - I found Maric/Cailan’s armour, as well as correspondence between Cailan and Empress Celene. I don’t know what to make of it, but it certainly seems like an alliance was on the books. Some of it even sounded vaguely like it might have been a marital alliance. I can’t help but wonder if that was a factor in Loghain’s decision. He fought the Orlesian occupation, and Cailan was married to his daughter. I suppose I can sympathise with feeling betrayed and/or furious, but what he did was beyond that.
> 
> We’re keeping the armour and weaponry for now. We’ll take it back to Redcliffe for safekeeping. I don’t want to cause a fuss by wearing it, even if it is a lot better than what I’ve currently got.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Kingsway 17th (Tuesday again), 9:30 Dragon


	22. Redcliff, bastion of civilisation as it is, keeps track of the date. It's 9:21, 9:30 Dragon.

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> This is an odd turn of events. One of Eamon’s knights returned today from with an artefact - sadly not the Urn of Sacred Ashes, but a control rod for a golem. A merchant had given it to him for free, along with the location of the golem: Honnleath. I’m sure that’s your home. Apparently it’s been overrun by darkspawn.
> 
> As soon as he said that, I volunteered us to investigate. If there are darkspawn, they need dealing with, and a golem would be a useful addition to our efforts. On top of that, if there’s any chance that I can save a part of your family, or a childhood friend, then I cannot refuse it. If there is no one left… I suppose that I will try to find evidence of what happened to your family, at least to give you closure. 
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Kingsway 21st, 9:30 Dragon


	23. Alistair has been keeping track so he could write a real letter to Cullen. It's 9:24, 9:30 Dragon.

_Delivered to Kinloch Hold 10:7, 9:30 Dragon; forwarded to the Greenfell chantry 10:21, 9:30 Dragon:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We came to Honnleath to follow up on a lead about a golem that might be of use to our cause, and to rid the village of rumoured darkspawn. The rumours were true, unfortunately. I won’t describe the carnage we saw there, but rest assured that we dealt with every last one of the monsters.
> 
> I did ask after your family, after we saved the remnants of the village. Matthias - I wasn’t surprised when he said he was a cousin of some sort to you, as your voices are uncannily similar and I could see a family resemblance - and Amalia are alive, but your immediate family left a couple of months ago, after getting a letter from you passing on my warning that a Blight was coming. No one else took them seriously, but they decided to go to South Reach and stay with family there. No one knows what became of them. If we pass through South Reach, I promise I will try to find out what happened.
> 
> Maker watch over us all.  
>  Alistair  
>  Kingsway 24th, 9:30 Dragon
> 
> P.S. We got the golem working. Sort of. “Shale” isn’t controlled by the rod. But it - they - have agreed to come along. Said they were sick of birds pooping on them. Yes, said. They talk. Somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify: all details regarding Cullen's relatives are speculative/headcanon, except that his immediate family went to South Reach during the Blight. Matthias is voiced by Greg Ellis/Johnny Rees (hence the vocal similarity), and the idea that the rest of the family left when Cullen wrote to them was to facilitate them getting to South Reach before the darkspawn had a large presence along the Imperial Highway - Lothering is between Honnleath and South Reach, and so a civilian family had to have a chance of making it there!


	24. They left on the 5th, so today is 10:6, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Alright. So. This is strange. I’m not sure how I feel about it, and I don’t know whether I’m relieved that you won’t hear about this.
> 
> Wynne’s an abomination.
> 
> A sane, outwardly-normal abomination.
> 
> Well. Abomination seems like a harsh word for an old lady who hasn’t done anything more evil than tease and remind me that elderly people were probably once… more spritely. I can’t comment myself on whether this is a change in personality, as apparently the ~~possession~~ ~~bonding~~ event happened before we met her, in the Circle. But Mira hadn’t noticed anything different, and Wynne was one of her teachers. It’s why Mira’s good at spirit healing.
> 
> The templars never told us that spirits could share bodies without destroying the host. But then, they seemed to shimmy back and forth about the existence of “good” spirits, talking about Valour and Justice and Faith and Compassion and then reminding us that the Maker’s first children grew covetous and twisted.
> 
> Wynne’s said that she takes no issue that I have templar training, and the abilities that go with it. She even thinks that templars serve a necessary function. Which I suppose is true, but I don’t think that they/we are doing it right. How can it be right when they/we take away mages’ babies while the mother is too weak to do more than protest? How can it be right to say that a baby born to a Circle mage belongs to the Chantry?
> 
> _[The next sentence has been heavily scribbled out.]_
> 
> Maker watch over us all.  
> Especially the ones the Chantry took away and claimed for Him.  
> Alistair  
> Harvestmere 6th, 9:30 Dragon


	25. It follows that this is 10:9, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> This has been a rather unpleasant day, to say the least. We’ve travelled to a place called Haven – small, quaint, high up in the mountains – not totally dissimilar to Honnleath really, but mercifully free of darkspawn ~~and the villagers’ corpses~~ – as we’ve been told that this is where Brother Genitivi was last headed. Unfriendly guards met us, and mentioned a revered father, which set off alarm bells, but at least he said we could trade.
> 
> Stuck our heads into the first building to see if it was a shop, and found an altar dripping with flesh blood. I offered optimism, but was shut down. Dog ~~-Cullen~~ responded affirmatively when Mira asked if it was human blood. Wynne said that this village wasn’t “quite what it seemed” but I don’t know where she got that. Seemed pretty creepy to me.
> 
> We stepped back outside and were promptly attacked by more than half a dozen villagers. Honestly, it should have been unfair, especially when Mira called down her fire on them, but by the Maker, they fought tooth and nail. Then we went up the path and found people who were properly equipped to fight back, but even they didn’t last long.
> 
> Inside the “chantry” at the top of the hill, we found a man – a mage – preaching to a congregation. Isn’t that what they do in Tevinter? Anyway, Mira’s brief efforts at being polite didn’t go down well, and we were attacked, again. 
> 
> Fortunately, we found Brother Genitivi behind a locked door. He was sarcastic, even as he lay tortured and dehydrated. I’ve decided that, on top of writing the only decent books in our library, I like him. Mira and Wynne got him mostly fixed up, but even magic can’t replace the rest needed to fully recover from broken bones. Brother Genitivi is having none of that, though, saying that the Urn is just up the mountain. Apparently the temple that the cultists were guarding contains it. They call themselves Disciples of Andraste, and talk as though she’s still alive. 
> 
> Mira reluctantly agreed to help Genitivi up the mountain, but insisted that we rested for the night and took what supplies we could from the village. I know that looting the bodies of those who attack is just business as usual in these times, I can’t decide whether I feel guilty about taking supplies from these mad cultists.
> 
> It was all so unnecessary. We’re facing a Blight, Cullen, and we’re killing people infected only by idiocy. But, said idiots are the ones who’ve killed Eamon’s men – chances are, it was a knight’s blood staining the altar. They killed Genitivi’s assistant. 
> 
> We’ve camped out in the “chantry” so we don’t have to move Genitivi, but this place gives me the creeps. I suppose I should be grateful for a roof above my head, and a few scant cushions to soften the stone.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Harvestmere 9th, 9:30 Dragon
> 
> P.S. Mira and Leliana are absolutely sharing a tent, much to their great enjoyment. It’s awful but I’m pleased for them, in a weird, squirmy way. I’m just glad that we had walls.


	26. And this must be 10:10, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> It took a few hours for us to walk up to the temple, but we did find it: cold and dilapidated, but still it made my heart catch for a second. It was made in the years directly after Andraste’s death; there’s something awe-inspiring about being so close to history, to something so old. If I recall correctly, this place is alluded to in the Chant, in the bit where it talks about Havard collecting the Ashes and bringing them out of Tevinter.
> 
> Mira’s strength is powered by her magic now, so she didn’t ask for help supporting Genitivi. Once he helped us to get in – and we found a giant bonfire in the icy main hall, which didn’t bode well for the place being uninhabited – he opted to stay and study the entrance while we went to find the Ashes. Just to be on the safe side, we left Dog- ~~Cu~~ , Morrigan, Sten and Zevran with him. He warned us that the texts warn about bad things happening to unbelievers, so it’s probably for the best that we left Morrigan and Sten behind. Zevran, I have no clue about. Wynne and Leliana are clearly Andrastian. Mira… seems cagey about it. She’s said that the elves in the alienage were forced to be Andrastian, and that it was mandatory in the Circle, too. I suppose I can see how being trapped and preached at would make you dislike a religion. ~~Wonderful, now I’m doubting the sincerity of my own beliefs.~~ But she’s a good person. Besides, even Genitivi pointed out that prophesying death to unbelievers is a lot more glamorous than celebrating the trap-makers’ craft.
> 
> The temple definitely wasn’t uninhabited, but clearly they didn’t expect visitors, as we dealt with them and none of them got as far as Genitivi. We found several dead adventurers who had made it this far; when we were done, we arranged a pyre in the main hall. Also, there were books and studies. Before we go, I’d like to see if there’s anything salvageable beyond what we found at a quick glance – that any of it survived is a miracle. I know I joke about not liking reading, but it’s only that the books are written so drily – the actual contents is fascinating.
> 
> Next, we got into another section and encountered horrific creatures – demons, monsters, I don’t know – that were almost all mouth and teeth and muscle. Ash wraiths, Wynne calls them. That was confirmed by “Father” Kolgrim’s notes we found near a brazier, telling that they were originally Andraste’s disciples, burnt to death by the same fire that burnt her. Oh, and they breathe fire. I don’t know how much stock we can put in that madman’s research, but it’s unnerving to think that the souls of those who knew Andraste are guarding this place – and that we’re trespassing.
> 
> Mind you, they seem to have tolerated the cultists thus far, so they’re probably just screwed-up cultists.
> 
> Or maybe the cultists are screwed-up descendants of those disciples, and the ash wraiths recognise them somehow. That seems just as likely.
> 
> What next – oh yes. Horse-sized dragons again. And more cultists. And what I had to presume were dragon eggs. And then probably drakes? They were much bigger than horses, but no wings. This was all in a volcanic cave system, so we must have passed through the ‘front’ for this temple. The lava pools absolutely stank of rotting eggs, and Leliana didn’t soothe my nerves by talking about eruptions. These people were trying to breed the dragons? Encourage dragon births? Which all made sense when we realised that they believed that the high dragon who’d taken up residence is Andraste. We met this “Father Kolgrim” and he told us that Andraste would smell his/Her disciples’ and Her “children’s” blood on us and be wrathful. He told us that Andraste has been reincarnated as a glorious dragon. But of course, we couldn’t see Her until She is ready to rain fiery death on everyone. Then he got some deluded idea that Mira would destroy the Ashes, as they were apparently stopping Andraste from being reincarnated. Now, Mira may be iffy about the whole religion thing, but we came out here to get the Ashes for Eamon, so you can imagine how she responded. (Actually, she humoured him long enough to hear the nonsense he was spouting – I could see that the amazement Kolgrim thought was interest was actually horrified fascination. You met the grand cleric when you went to vouch for me, didn’t you? I’m sure her head would explode if she heard what Kolgrim was saying.)
> 
> Anyway. Kolgrim is dead. We’re resting now: we’ve had quite enough of being set on fire and raked with claws and bitten for one day. Tomorrow, I suppose we face “Andraste”.
> 
> Maker watch over us both. But me in particular right now. Please don’t let your wife kill me tomorrow.  
>  Alistair  
>  Harvestmere 10th, 9:30 Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Happy holidays, everyone!)


	27. Assuming their body clocks are right, it's now 11:10, 9:30 Dragon

_This letter was unsent, and left tattered and slobbery with distinct teeth-marks in places._

> Cullen,
> 
> You know what? I do rather love Mira. Not that way, obviously, but I am getting to like the idea of my tiny big sister. Before we left the caverns, she gave me this little warrior statuette that she had found. A gift. For me. Just because she thought I’d like it. I nearly cried. ~~Alright,maybe I teared up a bit.~~ And then, when we got outside of the temple, we were immediately greeted by screech-roaring dragon flying around. Fortunately, it decided to curl up for a doze on a high cliff, and either didn’t notice us or didn’t care. Mira’s response? “Everyone alright with not drawing the attention of the dragon that may or may not be the reincarnation of Andraste?” Wynne and I were totally on board with this decision. Leliana started to protest/joke (I really don’t know which) about what an exciting story it would make to see and fight a dragon, and Mira flatly said there’d be no story at all if we end up dead and the Blight destroys Thedas. She then promised Leliana that if they survive all of this, they could come back and try to fight it.
> 
> It’s still weird and squirmy but they are sweet, in their way.
> 
> Anyway, we crossed the mercifully dragon-free stretch (thank you, Maker) and found the structure that actually contained the Ashes. There was a man there, waiting for us: the Guardian of the Ashes, he called himself (top marks for originality, there). He said it was his duty to protect the Urn and prepare the faithful to venerate Andraste, until the Imperium crumbles into the sea. He may be waiting a while.
> 
> All jokes aside, he told us that the was one of the original disciples of Andraste, sustained by his vow to protect the Ashes as long as he lived. It’s mind-boggling. I still haven’t processed that I may have spoken with someone who marched with Andraste, who’s lived for literally Ages.
> 
> Regarding the dragon, he said it’s just a dragon. (Not that high dragons are anything to take lightly. I knew of that from books, but now I’ve seen one… at a middling distance, altogether too close for comfort, I’m very sure of this. I am not looking forward to fighting the archdemon at all.) The cultists are the descendents of his brethren, who “lost their purpose,” (went a bit mad).
> 
> Then the Guardian wanted us to prove ourselves worthy of seeing the Ashes. Thankfully, we didn’t have to fight him, but we had to go through tests of faith in this ‘Gauntlet’. Less thankfully, he decided to start peeking at our assorted tragic pasts and putting questions to us. Mira admitted that she thought she had let Jowan down. Wynne was asked about her doubts and wisdom. Leliana was accused of making up her vision for attention. And I had the fact that I still wonder how much better things would be if I’d been there to take the death blow for Duncan.
> 
> There were riddles from apparitions of people from the Chant who fought with/against Andraste (and some people not in the Chant - there was an elf there, called Shartan, and I don’t remember ever hearing about elves allying with Andraste against the Imperium in hopes of finding a home. I wish I could have found out more about him before he vanished.) Then a vision of Jowan, telling Mira to forgive herself for what she did.
> 
> Then we had to fight ghostly apparitions of ourselves. That was unnerving, to say the least. It wasn’t even there, but it met my sword blow for blow. And facing spectral Mira and spectral Wynne, so help me, but I had that sick panic that you must do, at the thought of my mage friends going rogue. It doesn’t bear thinking about.
> 
> In the next room, Leliana told me off for having a good idea. The “thingies” were not, in fact, traps. They made bits of bridge half appear, and if enough of them were pressed, fully appear. We spent a good while testing out which ones made which bits appear, before very carefully pressing them in order so that Mira (the smallest and lightest) could go across. (For good measure, we tied her to a rope.)
> 
> And then we came into a room with the Urn and lots of fire. And an altar that told us to get our kit off, which was a thoroughly uncomfortable experience. I shut my eyes, to be a gentleman, and I still saw more than I had a right to, including Leliana smirking at me. I’ve seen naked people before! You, for starters, and then other recruits. Other boys. But this is a weird ex-crush/sister, her girlfriend and an old lady! Mira took my hand to guide me, braced herself and we walked through, totally unharmed, and once we had all followed, the Guardian appeared again and said we had proven ourselves worthy. As soon as he’d gone, we all put our stuff back on and went up to the Urn.
> 
> I think it was literally a religious experience for most of us. I can’t express how I felt, seeing the earthly remains of Andraste. Kind of, leaden, and light, and expanded, and tight-chested all at the same time? I still can’t believe that we have a pinch of Her with us. Right now. Not that there will be much there for much longer, if Genitivi’s ideas for researchers and pilgrims to come here gain any traction.
> 
> I… can’t help but think on what the Guardian said to me. I do still think about it being better if I’d died in Duncan’s place. Duncan was so much older, wiser, more experienced than me. He could have taken charge, kept that burden from Mira’s shoulders. I know full well that I’m little better than useless and

_Witnesses to the scene described Dog-Cullen whining, trotting off in the direction that Alistair had retreated, and momentarily bounding back with parchment in his mouth and a panicked Alistair chasing after him. Dog-Cullen presented his gift to Mira, who then took Alistair aside. The three of them did not return for some time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope that 2019 brings all of you health, happiness and success.


	28. Alistair's estimation matched up with Redcliffe's: 10:17, 9:30 Dragon. Good job.

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Today was difficult. We returned to Redcliffe, and by the Maker’s grace and the power of the Sacred Ashes, Arl Eamon was restored to health. Teagan and Isolde were at his side when he woke; Mira and I lingered in the shadows, watching quietly. He clearly wasn’t with it yet, as he didn’t notice us. I felt rather ill, to be honest. I hadn’t spoken to Eamon since he said I was going and I smashed my mother’s amulet in a rage. 
> 
> The servants brought food for Eamon while Teagan and Isolde told him what had happened. Mira stepped forward when invited, and of course, I had to come forward too. Eamon went almost grey again when he saw me – I thought he might die right there and then, after all the trouble we went to. But then he managed a weak smile, and we went through an incredibly awkward ritual of, “I almost didn’t recognise you,” and “You’ve grown up,” and “How have you been?” You’d be pleased that I didn’t make any passive-aggressive, self-deprecating jokes about how of course I’d grown up in the ten years since he’d sent me away, or me being a failure of a templar and a Warden. I didn’t really have a chance though, as Mira spoke up to very matter-of-factly state all the ways that I’ve helped and done good. I caught Isolde giving me a Look quite often.
> 
> For the most part, though, we were just there to listen and chime in with updates. Once all that was done, Eamon insisted on making our whole party ‘champions of Redcliffe’ (so now I’m actually welcome in my own home. Wonderful.) Also, he gave Mira a shield of the Redcliffe knights. And then we had to decide what to do about Loghain. There’s no way we could fight Loghain and the darkspawn, of course, so we had to find a way to force Loghain to step aside. Eamon kept glancing at me, and so I had a sneaking suspicion as to his plan, but throwing up wouldn’t have been very tactful. A campaign of telling people the truth about Loghain’s crimes… and an heir with a legitimate claim to the throne.
> 
> The second he said it, Mira put herself between me and them. Eamon went on, already deciding my fate without asking me, and then spoke to me as though I was still a child, forcing me to agree with him. Mira tried to argue, but _I_ stopped her. It wasn’t the time and place.
> 
> Of course, after treating me like a child, he turned to Mira and spoke to her like an adult, trying to sweeten her up and ingratiate himself, saying he had to follow her lead, that he couldn’t go against Loghain without her. I didn’t realise it as a boy, but he’s quite manipulative. Mira found herself pushed into the same corner that I did, if via a different path, and had no choice but to acquiesce.
> 
> Isolde gave me a look that was almost guilty? But of course, she couldn’t apologise for what she’d pushed Eamon to do because she thought I was his bastard.
> 
> And then we had to go back to everyone and tell them everything. About me being Maric’s bastard, and that Eamon wanted me to be king. Morrigan scoffed, of course, and nobody else seemed to be of the opinion that this was a good idea. Possibly because they think I’d be a terrible king. Which I would be. To prove that point, I walked off and went down to the kennels.
> 
> At least the dogs were still happy to see me. One or two of the oldest ones even recognised me, which may have made me cry a little bit. Or a lot. The new kennel-master left me alone with the dogs, and probably thinks that I’m an idiot, but I’m past caring. I am an idiot. Better to be pushed to crying with pure-hearted creatures that let me cuddle their pups and actually enjoy my company for me being me, not royalty.
> 
> I slipped out when the dogs had their dinner; probably for the best if I don’t go back to sleeping with the dogs, given the plans Eamon has in store for me. I’m currently writing this from behind the windmill, looking over the water and the village and with the castle hidden from view. I suspect that Dog will come looking for me soon, possibly with Mira in tow.
> 
> We were scheduled to be here for a few days, but I hope that we go as soon as we can. I need to talk to Eamon about the amulet and the circumstances under which I was sent away, but I’m not ready for that. I suspect he’ll want to talk to me, too, but right now I’m just angry and resigned, all at once. It feels like Mira and the dogs are the only ones who really respect me.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Harvestmere 17th, 9:30 Dragon
> 
> Oh. You’ll be seeing Jowan again, soon. Mira asked for him to be shown mercy, and have him sent back to the Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [P.S. The day that they left for Redcliffe, Amrita turned 14.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712204/chapters/8217799)


	29. Alistair has successfully tracked up to 10:27, 9:30 (with help), but now he's underground he is screwed.

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> More fun with Loghain’s assassins today. I think he’s twigged what we’re up to, and must have guessed that Orzammar was next on our list. They were waiting as we approached, just lounging about in the cold (and it is cold up here in the Frostbacks, especially with winter bearing down on us). Still, even if Loghain has an idea of our quest, he’s still greatly underestimating us – they were hardly a challenge.
> 
> We had a wander around the merchants outside the gates, and Maker, were there merchants. Orzammar has shut its doors to everyone while they work out who the new king is. It was… interesting, listening to the merchants. They were scared of what would happen to their businesses and families if they didn’t get to trade inside the city, but there were also a few who told us how, now that they’ve seen the sky, they’re considered little better than dirt to the “real” dwarves. Some are frustrated, many bitter that they have no value but are still critical to Orzammar’s survival. Leliana was right when she said that this seems wrong.
> 
> Aside from that, we dealt with a few errands, killed some deserters who attacked us when we tried to bring them in peacefully, and got to saunter into Orzammar, right past “King Loghain’s appointed messenger”. Well. “Sauntered” is a little generous, but Mira presented the Grey Warden treaties and the guard granted us entry. The “appointed messenger” tried to demand that we were killed immediately, but Mira just turned to him, narrowed her eyes and told him to leave, as he wasn’t going to see the dwarven lords. All his puffed-up courage deflated, and although he tried to threaten us as he retreated, it wasn’t very convincing, given he was backing away from a little elf who hadn’t even raised her voice.
> 
> Our entry to the city has been… unnecessarily exciting. The atmosphere down here is heavy, hot and smelly, literally, and so tense. No one seemed happy to see us, although a few were tentatively hopeful that we could help. We got into the Commons, and the first thing we saw was a spat between the two candidates for the throne: Bhelen, third son of the old king and alleged murderer of the oldest son, maybe murderer of the king, and Harrowmont, a trusted aide of the king who seems a bit too conveniently placed and it’s entirely possible that he finished off the king himself. It was Bhelen’s party who drew blood, one of his men killing a guard who tried to disperse the fight.
> 
> After that, we explored the rest of the Commons, and Mira did her thing - talking to everyone, finding people who need help, gathering information. We’re resting for the night now, but currently we’ve got instructions to catch nugs, ask the Circle to take in a dwarf, and maybe talk to someone about opening a chantry. In Orzammar.
> 
> I don’t like it down here. The politics is already giving me a headache, but given that I’m probably going to have to deal with this lot ~~when Eamon makes me~~ I should pay attention. Also, it smells eggy and the lava just radiates heat. I suppose at least I don’t have to worry about damp socks in here.
> 
> Or maybe I do, given the sweating.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Harvestmere 27th, 9:30 Dragon


	30. The group who stayed outside say it's only been a night, so it's 10:28, 9:31 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> By the Maker, but I already hate politics. This morning, Mira, Leliana, Wynne and I ventured out to the Assembly, and it’s a mess – it seems a miracle that no blood was spilt. The steward told us who to speak to if we wished to work with Bhelen or Harrowmont, and we trotted along and did so. Both of them, in hopes of getting a sense of who would be better to support. Both Bhelen and Harrowmont are accused of murder, and it turns out that both of them are stooping low with blackmail and bribery to hurt the other one. For once, Mira was at a loss, and turned to me to make a decision, given that I’ll be the one dealing with the King of Orzammar in future. I had no more idea than she did, but Leliana put forward a couple of arguments in Bhelen’s favour: from what we have heard, Bhelen is more progressive about contact with the surface, and also, Bhelen has only blackmailed his enemies, while Harrowmont has lied to his allies. Aggression against the enemy is part and parcel of politics, but deceiving allies does not speak well of future cooperation. It was very half-heartedly that I agreed that we should support Bhelen, given that he likely committed fratricide.
> 
> So, we go and see one of the ~~deshirs~~ ~~desheers~~ deshyrs, and after being rather haughty and rude, she told us that we’d have to find her father in the Deep Roads. And then on the way back, Mira spotted some thugs trying to rough up a merchant, and lead us in right after them. She managed to scare them away with no blood shed – I’m starting to think that I’m lucky to be on her good side. Anyway, I have a feeling that we’ll meet this “Jarvia” and her “carta” soon enough. We usually do meet the people we antagonise sooner or later. Besides, Mira was getting that frosty look on her face when people are being gits and preying on the vulnerable.
> 
> The second deshyr was much more amicable, and explained the caste system to us. It sounds as terrible as dwarven ale (I never told you that I tried it once, did I? One of the other Wardens gave it to me. Guess I’ll never tell you the story, now.) He gracious, if exhaustedly, took our news and agreed that his family vote was back on the market.
> 
> There was also a rather unpleasant dwarf in the tavern. Ogren? Not sure of the spelling. He talked about us helping him find the Paragon Branka, but also accused Mira of being just like the other power-hungry lords. He was very drunk. I hope we don’t run into him again, but just by ~~sayi~~ writing that, I’ve already guaranteed it, haven’t I?
> 
> We’ve left the city to collect our other companions – we don’t want to go into the Deep Roads short of allies or supplies. Our failure to attend the afternoon Proving is goes to make it clear to Harrowmont which side we’ve taken, I suppose. How do dwarves even know it’s the afternoon? How do they even have a concept of noon at all? Do they have a dwarf who’s doomed to be casteless, just to sit and ring a bell when it’s daybreak?
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
> Alistair  
> Harvestmere 28th, 9:30 Dragon


	31. It was 10:29, 9:31 Dragon when they re-entered Orzammar, and it's probably been a six hour march through the Deep Roads... but it's so dark that who can tell how much time has passed?

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> We’re in the Deep Roads now. I already hate it here. It’s worse than those caves at the temple because we’re going below surface level and I can feel the weight of the mountains and everything on top of us. That, and the darkspawn.
> 
> Maker, Cullen, and I thought I knew what it was like to be near them and face them. Us Grey Wardens, we can hear them? Sense them? When they’re nearby, sometimes even get an idea of their numbers. But equally, they can sense us, to varying degrees. The old Wardens, they start to hear the Calling of the Old Gods/Archdemons, and the Taint eventually catches up with them, making them into ghouls, and they’re so close to being darkspawn that the darkspawn can’t tell the difference, which means that they often go down fighting down here. New ones like Mira and myself still have enough of us to be foreign to them. I think that Dog can sense them too - he was tainted, and we managed to stop it from killing him, but I knew of mabari and other dogs who served in the Wardens.
> 
> I’m on watch now. We’ve agreed that between Mira, Dog and I, one of us should be awake at all times. I can tell that Mira’s still getting the nightmares. Leliana’s curled up around her, but… Mine are mostly gone now, but I think being down here might bring them back. I can feel that they’re here, and in awful numbers. We’ve already fought one band of them, but there are more to come. I feel guilty even taking this time to write, instead of focusing outwards. I don’t exactly want to focus outwards. It would be nice to pretend that beyond where Shale’s crystals shed light, the impenetrable darkness was just a cellar or something relatively harmless.
> 
> Having golem on our side is definitely interesting. It is both satisfying and disgusting to see - or half-see, in this light - them absolutely squish a deepstalker. And since they don’t have to sleep, they can stay on watch all the time. But they’re not exactly the quietest of companions down in these rock tunnels, where vibrations carry for… well, maybe not miles, but a long way. I rather wish we had left them behind.
> 
> Walking through Orzammar with a golem certainly got us some attention.
> 
> I do feel nervous not paying attention. I think these are going to stop until we get back. Who knows how long we’ll be down here for.
> 
> I don’t want to think about the fact that if I’m lucky enough to survive this Blight, and then not get assassinated, that this is what will be waiting for me.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
>  Alistair  
>  Harvestmere 29th, 9:30 Dragon


	32. Bodahn says it's 11:10, 9:30 Dragon

_Unsent:_

> Cullen,
> 
> Back to Orzammar, and of course, things weren’t so simple as, “We’ve proved we’re on your side, now give us your forces,” were they? No. We travelled back with Dace, finally got out of the Deep Roads (I could still feel the darkspawn, though), spoke to Vartag, Vartag took us to see the prince, and the prince wanted us running errands to clear out criminals to help him secure his position. The same criminals that were harassing that shopkeeper, so Mira was at least glad she’d have a chance to deal with that, but we’d already lost so much time fetching Dace. Who knows how many villages have fallen to the darkspawn while we’ve been down here?
> 
> Thankfully, a small amount of subtlety (read: bribery) followed by a lot of brute force got the Jarvia problem dealt with in a day (or what I think a day is – my sense of time is way off, after what is apparently a dozen days underground).
> 
> We’ve come up out of the city for the night, and I have never been so grateful to have my toes in danger of frostbite. We’ll be going back down to the Deep Roads tomorrow, in the hopes of finding Paragon Branka. It seems like a fool’s errand, but it’s also the only way we’re going to break this wretched deadlock and get the forces we need. The current estimate is that we’ll be down there for six to ten weeks.
> 
> One benefit of coming up though, is that we’ve been able to catch up with Bodahn, and Mira reminded us all why we respect and even love her a little bit: she had bought all of us presents for Satinalia, which passed while we were down there, and left them in Bodahn’s care until we returned. She got me a hand puppet that looks like a Grey Warden. A little odd, but given she said she thought I hadn’t had much of a childhood, it means a lot. Morrigan got a gold mirror, Zevran got some Antivan alcohol, Sten got a Qunari prayerbook (where Bodahn found that, I don’t want to know), Wynne got an amulet, and Leliana got a lute and a nug.
> 
> Yes. A nug. Leliana is delighted by her squeaky “bunny-pig.”
> 
> Bodahn has strict instructions not to let anyone eat it before we return. I think Sandal’s quite excited about looking after it, in his way, even if he’s still only saying, “Enchantment!” Fingers crossed the nug isn’t blue when we get back.
> 
> Maker watch over us both.  
> Alistair  
> Firstfall 10th, 9:30 Dragon


End file.
